


Juno Steel and the Washington Devil

by FogMK



Series: Hyperion, Washington [1]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Paranormal Investigators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 15:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14595687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FogMK/pseuds/FogMK
Summary: A mysterious man on the hunt for the unusual, an antiques dealer dealing in cons, a double-duty radio host and mechanic, and a grumpy detective stuck smack dab in the middle of it all. Yea, and there's romance and a devil walking to boot. Welcome to Hyperion, Washington!





	1. Chapter 1

_Click_. The station he had been listening to for the better part of the night had finally gone to static. He should have expected it, he supposed, being in the… countryside? He was driving on a back country road, flanked on both sides by rising pines and firs, lit only by the full moon and the sky’s many stars. Not what most people think of when they think “countryside”. The only resemblance between that and where he was at the moment was the stunning lack of civilization. He knew that rural communities tended to bunk down early, but he hadn’t expected the radio station to go off air so soon; surely one station was an all-night one… One eye on the road, he fiddled with the dial until a voice rose from the stereo.

“…well, dear listeners, it’s midnight, and as you all know, most stations around here go off air for the night. I should be doing the same, seeing as this show’s usually a nine am one. Don’t even know why I’m on at this hour, you must all be asleep, as I should be but… I think, as it’s a full moon and all, I’ll stick around, keep the stars and whoever else might be lonely on these moonlit roads company. It’s a good thing the radio station is my own; imagine if I had to go wake up the management with “hey I got a funny feeling, let me go on air!” Oh, it would be something…”

_How odd_ , he thought to himself as the trees began to thin. _To think, all the shows in the region go off air for the night, and this one just happens to be on because the host had a “feeling”_ … He smiled to himself, alone but for the voice on the radio; odd coincidences were what he had recently made his life’s mission to pursue.     He turned up the volume and chased the moon.

“… and now I think that I shall go to bed my friends, or Skyler’s going to flay me when I don’t wake up tomorrow. Here’s a parting bit of thought to keep you pondering. They say that fate is written in the stars and in scars; one tells your future, the other has your past. No one has ever been able to tell me which tells which; I’ve learned that it depends on the person. Is fate written in the stars, or are you followed by your past on your skin? The things you think in the witching hour. This is Fog Burns, signing off. May you always find your way… _click_ ”

_Dead air again_ , he thought, _but what an interesting show! Too bad I missed the frequency…_ Fog’s question floated through his mind as he drove past a diner, then wrenched himself and the car around as he realized that there was in fact a diner in the middle of the woods. Well how about that, just as that show was ending too. And it was an all-night diner! His stars were unusually lucky tonight. Ah well, no time to think about that; his stomach was starting to fuss and four hours on the road had done his tush no good.

The front door jingled as it opened, and the diner itself was just as mundane: dim lighting caused by two dead bulbs, red upholstered booths and the gentle atmosphere of a tired evening. The place was deserted except for a short and stocky person in a trenchcoat slouched over the counter. Two things struck him then: the fact that the lighting was _excellent_ , and that the face that had spun around to look at him with suspicion beneath a furrowed brow had the most _gorgeous_ eyes. Gloriously blue eyes in a face ribboned with scars. He blinked as the voice on the radio fled through his thoughts then put on his most winning and wily smile, promptly aiming it at the lovely face. Said lovely face’s eyes widened, eyebrows went up, and cheeks promptly blushed while the face in question spun back around to glare at his coffee. Oh, but this would be fun.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, seating himself at the counter next to the blushing stranger. The man gave him a series of looks that plainly said “Are you really asking me this right now, in this deserted diner at midnight. And you’re sitting right next to me in this completely deserted diner, okay.” The stranger was even lovelier up close; a strong jaw, burnished umber skin streaked with scars, and tired, wary eyes as blue as the deep sea. This man had seen better days. The trenchcoat had seen some wear, and little bit of head tilting revealed a pistol. A cop? Not in that getup. A detective then?

“You done starin’?” snapped the stranger, jolting him out of his ruminations. “I got better things to do than be gawked at by some tourist.”

“Are you certain?” was the retort. “Seems to me that the only thing worth doing in here is  drinking coffee and snapping at complete strangers.” The man at the counter had the decency to look slightly abashed, a look that was quickly replaced by a look of annoyance and… more blushing? My, but did this man turn pink easily. It was a good look on him. The beginnings of a grin sketched themselves on his face only to be erased and replaced with a smile by the appearance of the very blonde and very bubbly waitress for this hour of the night.

“Heya hun! Whoo, but ain’t you a stunner! Whatsa a handsome fella like yourself doin’ on the road so late? Only folks come by these parts is the locals and even then not at this hour! Well, ‘cept Juno, but that’s just Juno for ya. Where ya from? Oh, what can I get you by the way?" rambled the waitress, whose name tag was covered in glitter and said ‘Franny’. He blinked, struck by the forest of blond and pink before him. The stranger snickered, and he regained his composure.

“Why thank you. I’d return the compliments, but your lovely looks outdo mine by far. I’ll have a cappuccino, if you would be so kind?” He smiled at the waitress who tittered and winked at him.

“What a cutie, and polite to boot! Be back in a sec hun!” The waitress whisked herself away, leaving the  the stranger turned to him again, nothing but mild curiosity on his face this time.

“Flirt with a lot of small town diner waitresses?” inquired the stranger with… was that a hint of jealousy? _Really_? Well now. How about that.

“Hm? Oh no, that was just kindness. I only flirt with the dark broody type. You know, like detectives and such.” The man sputtered on his coffee and turned to him in shock, blushing mightily. Right on the mark then.

“How did you know I was a detective.”

“Simple! No self-respecting cop would wear a trenchcoat or drive a 1964 Pontiac GTO, which I am assuming is yours as it’s the only car in the parking lot. Also, an off-duty cop would not be brooding in a diner at such an hour.” The detective looked about ready to flip his lid. Here was some yahoo come out of who knows where, midnight in the morning, coming to the conclusion he was a P.I.? Most interesting thing that had happened to Juno Steel, Private Eye, all night.

“I wasn’t brooding.”

“No? Seemed a lot like brooding to me, detective.” The detective, as he very much was, smiled ever so slightly into his coffee.  

“Whatever. You a tourist?”

“Me? Oh no, I'm just passing through, looking for something. Strange."

“Well if you're looking for Bigfoot or something you've come to the right place. Except you’re wasting your time. Not gonna find anything, it doesn’t exist."

"Oh, but I’ve already found something quite worth my while, my dear detective.” The corners of his mouth turned up as Juno looked up in shock from his empty cup. The man did not stop blushing! Just as the detective opened his mouth, Franny walked through the kitchen doors, a whirl of coffeepot and cup.

“Whoo, that took a while! Sorry about the wait, coffee machine went whack! Started spittin’ whip all over the place. Anyway here you go, on the house! Enjoy!” In a whirlwind of blond and pink, Franny filled the detective’s cup with fresh coffee and put a cappuccino down on the counter. Once she had retreated to the back, Juno cleared his throat, looked at the man, looked at his newly filled cup, and began having a conversation with his coffee.

“Listen, tell you what. I’ll take you to a motel, you can’t be driving around at this hour. A-and if you stay for a few days, I’ll take you around town, see the sights. Maybe you’ll find whatever you’re looking for.” His face split into a complete grin at those words. Was this an invitation? From a rugged and handsome stranger no less? Was he really being flirted with in a tiny town diner in the middle of Nowhere, Washington by a gorgeous detective at one in the morning? This was just too much. He saw himself in the detective’s eyes: a man with a fox’s teeth in a crescent smile, dark windswept hair, and twinkling eyes behind large frames.

“Why thank you detective, I do believe I’ll take you up on that offer. Shall we go?” Rising from the counter, he swallowed his coffee, contemplated the fact that sleep had deserted the menu for the night, and left a forty percent tip. Juno, flustered, polished off what was his fourth cup of the night, payed his bill, and hollered a good night to Franny, who hollered back from the kitchen, “G’night boys! Thanks for dinin’ at the All-Night Moonlite Diner! Hope to see you again soon!”

By the time they left the diner the moon had set, and it was beneath a miraculously starry sky that the 1964 Pontiac GTO led the way to the little town of Hyperion, Washington, population 5,000. He followed the detective off the highway into the sleeping town. In the darkness, the buildings were empty, a ghost town full of haunted tales and dead souls. While the moon had set, the pines rose above it, guardians of the mystery that engulfed the town like shadow. The only salvation to the unknown was an ornery streetlamp that sat on the street corner in front of the Penumbra Motel, est.1865. It was old, but not dilapidated. Distinguished, one might say. But neither the motel nor the town’s haunted gaze held his interest; that was instead captured by a squat two-story building a little ways down the street from the motel named the Juno Steel Detective Agency. He noticed all of this, and kept his mouth shut.

“Well, here we are. Penumbra Motel, the best and only motel in the whole county. Hey, um.” The detective’s voice hitched ever so slightly. “I’ll pick you up at nine?” Once again, for the second time that night, he grinned.

“Why certainly. I’m looking forward to it, Mister…” Juno’s eyes widened as it dawned on him that in the heat of the moment, he hadn’t introduced himself to the man he’d offered to be a tour guide for. Some detective he was.

“Uh, it’s Steel. Juno Steel.” The man smiled, then grinned as Juno’s face turned pink under the streetlamp.

“Well then, thank you for everything, and good night, Mister Steel. I’ll see you in the morning.” Juno (what a lovely name that was; a pretty name for a pretty dame) mumbled a goodbye and fled back to his car. He chuckled; it was just so easy to get Juno flustered. His stay here, he thought, would definitely be enjoyable.

He watched as Juno drove the length of the sidewalk to his building, got out of his car, and looked at him. He waved. The door of the agency nearly smacked the wall with the speed at which Juno hurled himself into the building, the second floor being the one on which he lived. The streetlamp was the only witness as the newcomer to Hyperion laughed quietly to himself, shook his head, picked up his suitcase, and entered the lobby where the concierge was waiting.

Juno shut the door to his apartment and slid to the floor, fit to die of mortification. He was going to lose his mind; here he was, a detective for the past decade, blushing madly whenever the beautiful stranger from out of town looked at him! What kind of absolute idiot was he? Some tourist shows up at the diner at midnight come out from who knows where, and within fifteen seconds his heart is hammering out of his chest. Within fifteen minutes, he’d been so enamored that he’d accompanied the stranger to a motel in the middle of the night and offered to be his tour guide! He was Juno Steel, hard-boiled detective of Hyperion, Washington, as stony as the skies were grey; he shouldn’t be sitting in his doorway at one in the morning blushing about a stranger. Stupid, this is what he got for moping at a diner after a case instead of doing his paperwork. But, that newcomer sure did smell nice and his accent…

After about ten minutes of sitting in his doorway, Juno came to a realization. It dawned on him then that he’d been so caught up in this mysterious newcomer that he’d completely forgotten to ask his name. Come to think of it, the newcomer hadn’t offered his name up either. Huh. One of the stranger nights of his career.  
   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's the face behind the voice? Who knows? Not me! It is extremely hard writing somebody and not being able to use their name anywhere in the first chapter I tell you what.


	2. Chapter 2

He’d left New Orleans for the Pacific Northwest a three years ago. It wasn’t that he’d been unhappy there. Living in the French Quarter and working in a parfumerie had suited him just fine, and what he’d loved about the French Quarter and his city were its stories, scary and otherwise: the story of Marie Laveau, the Lalaurie house, fifolets, the Gardette-LePrete house, vampires, and the like. He’d loved listening to the stories and haunts of the bayou too: Patin’s Punkin Patch, the Gonzales lights, stories of the Rougarou. When the shop closed for the evening, he’d read stories and listen to his neighbors talk about ghosts, ghouls and “magik nwa”.

He’d taken the stories as stories, and his life rolled on, until the stories came to life in the form of his employer trying to bleed him dry. He’d only survived that experience because he’d had vervain essence on hand; the perks of being a perfumer. An impromptu visit with his neighbor that night had informed him that the only way to be safe from a vampire was a fire. She’d also told him that to burn a vampire was to “burn yo’ ties t’life, cos’ ‘is kin ain’t gon’ stop tryna getcha ’til yo’ dead or fled da county.” When he’d returned to his apartment, he’d been presented with a suitcase, a trash bag of weapons and sundry, several tupperware boxes of food, and his life savings in an envelope.

I’s gon’ take care o’ yo’ stuff til’ yo’ come back okay? Now git along afore them suckers drain da buildin’,” she’d said, and bid him adieu. New Orleans said its goodbyes to him that night, as he’d burned his employer and his life to ashes, leaving his home in the care of his neighbor, an old woman named Marie Laveau. He’d left with only himself, his accent, and his neighbor’s gifts. He never wondered how she’d gotten into his safe.

Big cities never saw hide nor hair of him, sticking as he was to little towns and dirt roads. The spirits and monsters of those small towns, on the other hand, did. His first trip to Mississippi brought him face to face with the Mississippi Mudman, putting two thoughts firmly in his head: it was the ugliest thing he’d ever seen, and his life’s new mission was to see as many spooks and monsters as he could before he died.

Trips around the South met him with countless ghosts and cryptids, the Altamaha-ha, and most memorably, Mothman. He’d traded his car for one better suited to cross-country travel in Alabama, and a conversation at a truckstop had put him on the interstate to the Pacific Northwest, with plenty of stops and encounters with the paranormal along the way. Before he’d gotten to Hyperion, he’d been in Forks. Nothing special to report, except that they had good fishing; he’d nabbed and dried himself a month’s worth of salmon jerky.

He contemplated the circumstances that brought him to Hyperion when he woke up, reacquainted himself with his surroundings, and got ready for the day. This included but was not limited to brushing his teeth and using liberal amounts of cologne (one which he’d made himself before leaving New Orleans. The concierge (the same one who’d greeted him last night) wished him a good morning, and he wondered if the concierge had even slept, it being a twenty-four hour motel. A peculiarity of the concierge was that his face was the kind that always slipped your mind; you could only ever remember his voice. Another peculiarity of the Northwest, he assumed.

He leaned against the wall of the motel; it was nine, and Juno wasn’t here yet. It was no problem; it was actually a very good coincidence. The clear weather, miracle of Washington miracles, had held up, and he saw the town in daylight for the first time. The first thing he noticed was the garage. It’s door was raised, and two lawn chairs had been set at the juncture between the garage and the adjacent building, which he could see in the morning light was an antique shop. ‘Skyler Stone’s Antique and Pawn, open 9-5pm Mon-Fri.’ Who on earth would put an antique shop right next to a garage?

He didn’t have the time to think up an answer when a 1964 Pontiac GTO rolled up to him, front windows open. True to form, he poked his head inside and cheerily said hello. Juno, who’d been about to get out, whipped his head around and immediately looked flustered. Sakes alive! The detective was so much cuter in natural lighting!

“Good morning detective! Running a little late today? That turned out swell actually, I woke up late. I was enjoying the breeze when you arrived. The air in this town smells so good, must be the pine and the sea! How are you?” rattled the man. There was a brisk breeze in the air that had ruffled his hair some and turned the newcomer’s cheeks pink with the cold. Just the sight made Juno’s heart skip a beat. The handsome newcomer had raised an eyebrow when he’d poked his head in, and then gave Juno the most knowing look. God, he looked so pleased about it too when Juno couldn’t meet his eyes. Juno was about to die. But not just yet.

“I, uh, I’m, fine. You- are you? Fine? I mean you are, you’re fine uh oh my God I’m losin’ it. MMM okay um, haveyoueatenyet? Breakfast I mean,” stammered Juno, going red at the effort. A worthy effort it seemed, because the stranger laughed.

“I have not, is that an invitation?” chuckled the man.

“OH WELL yeah I guess? Yeah?”

“Then lead the way, my dear detective.”

The first order of business that morning, however, was not breakfast. It was moving the stranger’s car to more affordable parking (a motel in the middle of nowhere had to pay its bills somehow), so the stranger drove his car to the garage across the street, where two young people were eating their breakfast in lawn chairs. These two young folks were Fog Burns and Skyler Stone, mechanic and antique and pawn shop owner respectively. Fog Burns, on the garage side, had short, messy black hair and was clad in melon green flannel beneath patched overalls covered in old grease stains. Fog was also barefoot. Skyler Stone, on the antique side of things was not only taller, but more put together. Neir hair was short too, of the gingerish persuasion, shirt buttoned to the neck and neir 50’s men’s slacks were pressed and rolled up at the cuffs. Skyler Stone wore pennyloafers.

Fog stood up at Juno’s approach, putting their plate on the chair and smiling with vigor.

“Juno! Hello! What can we do you for so early?” inquired Fog, always happy to see the only person who used a car regularly and brought them business.

“Mornin’ you two. I need a favor. Can you park this guy’s car for the day? Motel parking’s ‘bout as cheap as gas right about now.” Both the teens craned their heads around to see whose car it was being parked. The newcomer, who was leaning against Juno’s car, waved. They waved back.

“He’s handsome an’ all, but why should I use up valuable garage space for some tourist, Juno Steel? You sweet on ‘im or somethin’?” The detective blushed and sputtered that he most certainly was not thank you very much. “Oh you are!!! Oh well then of course!! Skyler, you’re wearing shoes, park his car! Anyone who makes Juno Steel blush gets favors from me. You headed for the diner? Go! Go have fun!” exclaimed the mechanic, pushing Juno back in the direction his car.

“So who are these young people?” asked the stranger once Juno had gotten in the driver’s seat.

“Them? Oh that’s right, you’re new. Well, that fool there that’s waving a fork around is the resident mechanic, only one in town. That’s their garage. Dunno how or why they’re running it so don’t ask,” he said when the stranger opened his mouth. “The one in the pants owns the antique and pawn shop. Dunno how that happened either. Those two are thick as thieves and they will make your life miserable if you offend either of them so get on their good side as soon as possible. Think you already have anyway,” he mumbled and turned away, the tips of his ears pink. The stranger raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t even met these kids, how could he possibly be on their good side? He looked out his window as Juno started the car. They saw him and waved cheerily. He waved back and the Pontiac took off.

The teens watched as the men drove away and contemplated the fact that Juno Steel, hardboiled detective and ex-ranger, blushed and stuttered like a fool in love whenever he talked about this mysterious and handsome newcomer that’d arrived in the night. Fog finished their plate and rose.

“I gotta be on air about now,” hummed Fog.

“Mention the stranger, yea?” rejoined Skyler.

“Well duh, 'course.” And the mechanic, who was also the local radio host, smiled wide and With Great Mischief.

Being a small town in the middle of the forest meant that there were no big businesses. That being the case, the only place in a fifteen mile radius that served pancakes and as much coffee so long as you had the cash for was the All-Night Moonlite Diner, open 24/7 every day of the week except Sunday. So Juno, for lack of options, took his newcomer there. Juno lifted his eyes to the Lord as he entered the diner, saw who was behind the counter, and nearly left the building. His luck being what it was, Rita, who doubled as his secretary on weekdays, was holding the morning shift. She was from New Jersey, and had energy and obliviousness in spades. Juno shut his eyes, opened them, and yep, she was still there, waving now and hollering “Mista Steel! Mista Steel over here I saved ya a seat!”

“Mornin’ Rita,” said Juno. It was only nine and he was ready to keel over. His guest, however, took it all in stride with grace, and smiled at Rita.

“Good morning, Rita, was it? Nice to meet you, and may I say you look lovely today?” Rita giggled, refilled a customer’s cup, then leaned over the counter to chat conspiratorially with Juno.

"Is this the guy Franny told me about??” she squealed. “The handsome new stranger that showed up around midnight last night?? Woooww boss you sure got good taste and some skill!!! Roping in a man like this at that hour, at the diner no less!!! You gotta gimme some tips!! An’ I mean that in the money way too!!” The man had started giggling and Juno was presently about to Perish of Shame when Rita flipped around to turn on the radio. “Oh oh!! Fog's show's aboutta start!! Mister Newcomer, you're in for a real treat, Fog's show is the BEST SHOW in a fifteen mile radius!!!"

"Rita it's the only show in a fifteen mile radius, it's the local show,” groaned Juno, exhausted already and it wasn’t even noon.

“SHH SHH IT’S STARTING!!!”

Back at the antique store-garage, it was the usual morning bustle of setting up the stories of the day and trying to minimize the amount of dishes in the sink. Fog Burns, who did the local radio show, had a studio in the back of the antique shop. Skyler Stone, their best friend and partner in crime, served as their “on-site correspondent”, which entailed collecting gossip on anyone and anything ne thought interesting. Today was a special day for the radio station; Juno Steel had finally gotten a sweetheart. While Fog got their notes together, Skyler went off to the diner (who cared if they’d already eaten, Rita knew the two were just as much of gossip hogs as she was) to peek over neir menu and watch events unfold. Ne was, of course, also sending the radio host updates. Double, triple texting. Skyler, from behind neir menu, texted “I don't necessarily encourage you to livestream the updates, but I’m not quite present enough to dissuade you.”

In the studio, Fog had one eye on the script and another on their phone, reading in double time. They read over the script again, fired off a “Lemme get this started and I’ll get back to you” text and turned the “On Air” sign on.

“Gooooood morning Hyperion, Washington!! You’re listening to Hyperion Fog, 10.20 on the radio dial. This is Fog Burns and as always, I’m so happy to have you! Do I have some news for you today, listeners! Let’s start with an apology though. Forgive me listeners, but today this radio host is just buzzing, and I mean literally, with news, and I'll tell you what about! There's something “new” in this old town of ours! According to a certain _someone_ of my dear listeners, a handsome newcomer dropped in the other night at the diner, and a certain dear _detective_ of ours has made it his mission to show our new guest the sights and sounds of Hyperion! Just cuz the weather's unfriendly doesn't mean this town is, even if some things in the woods think otherwise!

Speaking of, old Mister Mose saw something bipedal and immense in the woods the other night, so all folks in the region inexperienced in these matters should not go unaccompanied for the day and possibly bring a weapon, just as a precaution. Nobody is to go in the woods today, nowhere, nothing. Now let's take some calls! Line 5, you're on the air.”

If Juno got any redder, he was sure someone would offer him aloe at some point during the day; he was red as a beet. The newcomer was listening intently. Skyler teasingly chastised neir friend for almost blowing neir cover, then went back to listening to the show.

“Oh, Lordy Lou. Well, if any of you all are still listening after Rita just called in talking about the latest episode of her soap opera, you are going to reap the benefits. So it seems, according to what I’ve been hearing on the grapevine, that this mysterious stranger's been in our town since midnight last night and no one knows his name! Say what you'd like listeners, but I'll say that our mysterious man fits right in with our mysterious town! I'm sure our 'dear detective' as he is being called today will do his best to make him feel right at home.

This show can’t be all gossip so let's see, what else. Ah, yes okay. Fishing tackle and hatchets are 30% off at the general store today and the Hyperion Hell-Raisers won their first game of the season yesterday against the Oldtown Ospreys. Good job kids! Weather today is going to be chill breezes with clouds but a mostly clear sky. 50% humidity, so to my frizzy-haired listeners, I extend my condolences. Expect rain in the coming week. Well, that’s too bad, cuz the Annual Nature Skills Weeklong Workshop is next Wednesday, put on by our local ranger station and the Boy Scouts. Ah well, we’re used to it. That’s all I’ve got for you for now listeners. I’ll put on another show this evening at six if something else unfolds. Stick around for an hour of noir-style jazz as requested by our classy antique shop owner nemself. Can't wait to hear from you again friends! This is Fog Burns, wishing you fair winds and following seas!”

Smooth strains of jazz wafted into the diner as the show ended. Skyler quietly clapped and laughed behind neir menu, and texted Fog well done as they wrapped up the show. Back in Skyler’s office in the back of the antique shop that served as their broadcasting room, as soon as the “On Air” sign had gone off, Fog threw themself to the ground shrieking and laughing their eyes out, tears streaming down their face and coughing up a storm. This was going to be the best romance Hyperion had ever seen.

Once Fog had composed had composed themself a bit, they texted their correspondent to “plese go introduce urself to the new dude i wanna see how this plays out.” Tears still streaking their face, Fog spent a few minutes trying to convince nem to talk to the mysterious man. It took some doing, persuading, and promises to hot rod the car, but eventually, Skyler got up. “fog im doin this foR MYSTERY.... AND LOVE”

As soon as Fog got that text, they put on shoes, a hunting jacket, and went out the door.

Skyler sauntered up to the counter where Rita was chattering off to the handsome newcomer about all the weird things in town, Juno contradicting her at every turn. The newcomer was grinning, clearly having a good time. Rita, when she saw the pawner, gave a little wave and barreled on. Neither Juno nor the newcomer noticed nem until ne sat down on Juno’s other side and asked Rita for their usual order of a tall glass of water and a slice of cinnamon cake. Rita, of course, asked if ne’d met This Tall Glass yet. The newcomer blinked. Really? Really?

The antique shop owner winked at Rita.

“Let’s just say word gets ‘round fast ‘round these parts.” Immediately, ne turned to look at the newcomer and Juno, who looked liked the end of the world was about to come out of neir mouth. Juno futilely opened his mouth only to be cut off by Skyler Stone, antique and pawn shop owner, correspondent for the local radio show and snappy dresser, who immediately started introducing nemself to the handsome newcomer in town. Skyler reached neir hand around Juno to shake the stranger’s, trying neir darndest (with mild success) not to let a big, goofy smile take over neir face.

“Hello mister,” ne said. “Been a while since we’ve seen a new face around here, much less one as nice as yours.” All the blood in Juno’s body had gone up to his face. He tried, again with no results, to shoo Skyler away, who only flapped neir hand at him and brushed him off. “Oh, don’t you mind Juno here, we used to work together. On occasion. Now it’s mostly antiques for me! Geology work gets me the good stuff, though. You know what, I think I might have a few old pieces of jewelry that’d suit you just fine…” A wild tinkling of the bells sounded, and everyone turned to see Fog Burns come flying in the door, hollering all their worth.

"RITA WHAT THE FRICK GOOD MORNING CAN I HAVE SOME JUICE PLEASE THANK YOU" they yelled, throwing themself and landing half on Skyler’s chair, squishing nem against the counter. Fog stuck their hand out to the newcomer who, baffled, took it. "HELLO!! YOU MUST BE JUNO'S NEW BEAU!! I’M FOG FROM THE RADIO!” Fog realized, just then, that they were still wearing their gross overalls and pajama flannels, but it was too late to make it up now. Ah well, at least they were wearing shoes now.

The entire diner had stopped to look, but when they saw it was merely Fog Burns, they went back to eating. “Oh, it’s just that wild mechanic/radio host again, kicking up a fuss.” Because the radio show had just ended and everybody here knew that Skyler ran the antique store, everyone knew the two were associated. Skyler rubbed neir nose in fake shame, but in reality, ne just did not care; everybody knew Fog was weird and Skyler was weird, but what about Hyperion wasn’t weird? Skyler still thought, with love and affection, that Fog was a dork though.

Those two were a pair if you’d ever seen it: a well-dressed young person with neir slacks pressed and collar all buttoned up, and Fog, who was still in their pajama flannel and terrible overalls. As soon as they’d gotten that last text they’d put on socks, shoes, and a hunting jacket; they’d fully intended to see this happen in person, but as the diner was halfway across town from the studio and Skyler had taken the car, they’d gotten on their good ol’ dirtbike and gone flying a good mile down the road.

The newcomer blinked again; he’d been doing that a lot lately. His day had just gotten stranger and stranger. He’d been flirted with by a waitress in the same diner he’d been flirted with the night before, called handsome on the radio by a host he’d never seen (he hadn’t known little towns still listened to the radio, let alone that they had local shows), been introduced to the very young owner of the antique shop who was apparently? A geology expert as well? And he’d made the acquaintance of the mechanic he’d left his car with, who also turned out to be the radio host that had called him handsome on the air, and had come down from the garage to the diner on a dirtbike. He grinned; this town was going to be the One, he could feel it.

Juno did not have this in mind when he decided to take the newcomer to the diner. Rita, he could deal with. Fog AND Skyler at once though? Oh man, not a chance. Rita, who’d had enough of two rowdy people and two grown men at the counter, shooed them all off to the smallest booth she had, built for two people, sending a conspiratorial wink to the teens. Juno ended up squished between the wall and the newcomer, which he thought was very bad but also very good. Fog and Skyler were on the other chair; they were just fine on their end, them both being thinner and smaller than two grown men.

Rita came back with menus for the boys and the kids’ food; Fog ordered the same thing all the time (cranberry juice and cherry pie) and Skyler had already ordered at the counter.

“Didn’t you two already eat?” frowned the detective. Skyler gave him a look. Juno shut his mouth. Rita came back for the orders.

“Sooo, what can I get you boys?”

“I’ll just have my usual, Rita.”

“Eggs over medium, ham, and black coffee, okay!! What about you Mista Mystery?” The newcomer did not answer; instead, he raised an eyebrow at Juno. He was Unimpressed to the maximum.

“Is that really what you have for breakfast, detective?”

“What?” protested Juno defensively. “It’s cheap, gets me all the vitamins I need, and keeps me til’ lunch.”

“If you say so, detective.” Fog coughed something that sounded suspiciously like “likes apple”. “Rita, honey, I’ll have whatever you think is good. Thank you!” He gave Rita back the menu and whispered “And could you get him some apple pie too please, thank you.” The waitress giggled.

“Why sure Mista Mystery! Be back in a bit!” She did come back, laden with a frightening stack of pancakes and a plate of eggs and ham. “Enjoy!” The detective laughed at the newcomer’s startled face.

“Rule one of surviving Hyperion: Never ask Rita what she thinks is good. You’ll die before lunch.”   

 “I can see that! Split with me detective?” entreated the newcomer. He’d never been at a loss for words or missed an opportunity to flirt, and he was not about to start now. The detective turned a little pink and mumbled an okay. The newcomer smiled; he’d found his new favorite hobby.        

The teens were eating their second breakfast of the day and watching Juno and the newcomer have theirs; needless to say, they were having a fantastic time. The newcomer realized something. “Oh by the way,” said he. “As much as I enjoy being called ‘that handsome newcomer’ on the radio, it’s not very practical for everyday use. The name’s Peter Nureyev.” Immediately, Juno chimed in “And I’m Juno Steel.”

“Would you mind terribly if I called you Juno, detective?”

“Do whatever you want,” muttered Juno, eyes on his eggs and blushing for all he was worth. Peter, who now was named, thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen; people usually didn’t blush so much around him. Oh, they turned a little pink, but in an understated way. Juno, on the other hand, made full use of his bloodstream.

To make room for the pancakes, Juno had scraped his eggs and ham onto Fog’s plate (who’d accepted the gift and given the meat to Skyler) and received a stack of four Rita-style flapjacks, meaning that for four pancakes, the stack reached four inches high. Rita put a plate of apple pie down in front of Juno. “Rita, I didn’t order this,” he protested.

“Aw who cares Mista Steel! If someone gifts ya pie ya can’t just refuse it!”

“She’s got you there Juno.”

“Ugh, fine,” whined Juno, “but I’m not paying.”

“No need to my dear detective, it’s on me,” gaily proclaimed Peter. The kids were laughing into their plates; they themselves had never seen such a spectacle as Juno “Stoic” Steel Flustered Beyond Belief. As soon as they finished their early brunch they made for the counter, leaving the men in peace.

Peter, even though he’d been on the road for three years, had committed the grave offense of not having ever tasted diner pie. He was from New Orleans; why have pie when you could have beignets? So he asked Juno if he could have a bit. “I’m paying after all, it’s my God-given right. Besides, I’ve never had small-town-diner pie. It’s in a category of its own.” Peter had relocated to the other side of the booth, giving Juno space to read the paper. Mindlessly, Juno scraped off a piece and extended the fork across the table. He looked up when he felt fingers on his hand, and saw Peter on the other end, holding the fork via Juno. Juno hid behind his paper. He did not let go of the fork, and put it back down on the plate. At the counter, the kids were watching and quietly screaming with Rita.

Once they’d finished the pie (Peter had had the sense not to push it and had procured another fork) and Juno had finished the paper, the young’uns scooted back to the booth, Fog next to Juno and Skyler next to Peter, to settle the bill, have some coffee and hear the news. Peter, however, was not here for the news - he was here for the cover story.

“Fog.” Fog looked over guardedly. That tone meant lots. “Over the radio, you mentioned some things in the woods that wouldn’t… be so happy to see strangers on their turf, and you mentioned an old man seeing a bipedal… monster, in the woods. Now, I’ve been traveling through small towns for a little while, and most folks would laugh that off as an old man’s ramblings. And instead, you advised caution. I want to know,” he continued carefully. “Are there strange things happening in this town?” Fog looked at Peter through narrowed eyes. Juno watched over his paper. Skyler glanced at Fog. Then cracked a grin. Fog laughed, dissipating the tension and waggled their eyebrows. Both the mechanic and the antique store owner leaned on their wrists, the mechanic over the table, and gave Peter canny looks. Juno rolled his eyes, huffed, and turned the page to the sports section.

“Remember all that stuff Rita was telling you? She’s right,” said Fog. Juno snorted. “Well, mostly right, she’s embellished a few things.” Juno rustled his paper. “Juno Steel, if you don’t stop that right now, I’m gonna eat your paper.”

“Embellished?” interrupted Peter. “You mean there’s really monsters in these woods?”

“Well to us, they’re basically just odd animals. Whadda ya mean 'really'? You been goin’ through all the lil’ towns, you’ve hadta have seen some stuff. You ever heard of hide-behinds?”

Peter learned, from two teenagers, all there was to know about the supernatural in Hyperion Forest: hide-behinds, elementals, “somethin’ like the Jersey Devil except it ain’t got wings, it ain’t in Jersey, and it’s a heckuva lot scarier. S’called the Washington Devil.”

At the mention of this particular beast, Juno, who hadn’t said a single word and had been rereading the paper, sharply interrupted with “that’s bull.”

“Hush up, Juno,” retorted Fog, smacking him on the arm. “You’ve seen ‘em all, quit lyin’ out your eyes.” The fact of the matter was that he had indeed seen them all. He was an ex-ranger, and being a ranger meant knowing all the inhabitants of the woods he’d patrolled. All of them. Whenever a monster was mentioned, Juno vehemently denied its existence, to the confusion of all who heard.

“Well,” said Peter, bumping Skyler with his hip to get out of the booth. “I suppose I’ll be staying here for a little while longer, at least until my funds run out. I think my time in Hyperion will be quite interesting. Don’t you think so, detective?” He smiled at Juno, who didn’t blush this time, just looked away. Hm. He’d have to work on that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A questions answered kinda chapter, and here are the dreamers! This chapter took, just, an incredible amount of research. All sorts, all over the place.


	3. Chapter 3

Using the pretext that they had to “get back to work”, (they didn’t. It was Saturday) the teens left Juno and Peter, but not before warning Peter.

“This isn’t California. If you’re gonna be staying here, you’re gonna need some gear and good shoes or you’re gonna slip right down the street come next rainfall. Juno,” said Fog, who was doing most of the advising, “you know what’s up, take him to the general store and get ‘im geared up, yeah? Fishing tackle and hatchets are 30% off.” With that, Fog put their bike in the trunk of their car and headed back to town, Skyler at the wheel, the two of them giggling the whole time about how obtuse Juno was, and how he’d never guess they’d set him up on a date.

Juno drove them to the general store, quiet and contemplative the whole time, grateful that Peter didn’t try to make conversation. How was it that he was still accompanying this cryptid hunting yahoo? This one wasn’t like the others that he’d had to chase out of the woods in his ranger days - this one was serious. Plus, he’d done nothing but get Juno’s heart all tangled up. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Peter enjoy the breeze, eyes closed, and smiling. The wind gently ruffled Peter’s hair, and Juno wished he was the wind. Oh, he was beautiful to behold; a painting, a dance personified. Peter slid his eyes open, looked at Juno, and closed them again. He smiled when Juno’s breath hitched.

After a moment, Peter began to talk. He rattled on about his ideas, theories he’d come up with on the evolution of cryptids, and research he’d done in the past year, traveling through the Midwest. Juno listened and smiled; it was oddly charming to see such a suave person gush about monsters. After a a while, they made it to the general store, a squat little building that went in much further than one thought. It was a cross between a grocery and a sporting goods store, built like an old-fashioned grocery where the clerk at the counter went back and got you what you wanted. They went in, and Juno groaned. Mick Mercury was at the counter. Just his luck.

“Hey hey hey Jay! Oh mama, is this the guy Fog was talking about? Whoo!! Our lady’s finally fallen for someone classy!” exclaimed Mick, shaking Peter’s hand the whole while. Juno Steel was about to Lose It, he was about to lose his gotdam marbles, and then he was going to throttle Fog fucking Burns. Fog had done this to him, Fog was going to pay. Juno put his face in his hands and screamed hoarsely. Peter was smiling like a cat faced with a knife; Juno was once again blushing at the mention of Peter being his date, and Peter was loving every second of it.

“Anyway,” continued Mick. “What can I do for you?”

“FIRST OF ALL MICK WE’RE NOT DATING I MET HIM YESTERDAY- oh,” stopped Juno, flustered. He imagined a myriad of snappy retorts, but the situation was moving at too fast a clip for him to get any out. “Uh, he’s going hiking and stuff and all he’s got is oxfords, can you get him some gear?”

“Oh sure! Coming right up.” Mick vanished into the back room. The detective could feel the circulation going out of his fingers, all the blood in him having gone to his head for the past five hours. What even was going on? Every time Peter so much as looked at him, Juno had to take a deep breath. The handsome newcomer, for his part, was absolutely jovial.

“Oh, we aren’t dating? You should have said something Juno, I would have toned it down with the cologne.” Juno looked up at him.

“Oh no! It’s… fine.” Well now. That was just about as good as a confession for Peter Nureyev.

That damn cologne, thought Juno, was messing with his brain. He was starting to think about getting some of it on him, but cut that train of thought at the bud before he started losing the blood in his legs too. If he kept this up, he’d crash the damn car on this backcountry dirt roads.

Mick came back with a plethora of things: good hiking boots (broken in already by boiling them, so they were good to wear at a moment’s notice), a waterproof coat with many pockets, a hatchet, and a backpack of essentials (rope, first aid kit, all that). Peter went through and removed things that he wouldn’t need doubles of; it was always good to be prepared. He looked up from the counter to ask the price, only to find Juno already footing the bill.

“Why detective!” he protested. “That’s too much, you can’t!”

“Why not?” retorted said detective, forking over his credit card. “You bought me breakfast, plus you’ll hafta leave if you run outta funds. I bet a dollar you don’t have a job if you’re running around the country looking for spooks.” Peter tacked on to that last statement - Juno did not want him to leave.

“Well then, at least let me take you out for something sometime,” insisted Peter. It was rude to make a lady pay for his own meals while out. “Whatever you’d like.” Juno cocked an eyebrow; he wasn’t a detective for nothing, he Knew a loaded statement when he heard it. But he wasn’t about to fall for it at this hour! They exited the store and walked back to the car with Peter’s things.

“Mr. Steel-”

“Juno. Just Juno is fine.”

“Well then, Juno, how is it you know so much about the woods? I wouldn’t have guessed a private investigator would spend so much time birdwatching.” Juno shut the trunk and turned to him, leaning on the chassis.

“Well, first of all, it helps to know the woods when it’s right there, and sometimes, people go missing. When it’s folks missing from other towns, their police force comes to me for help. Second of all, I used to be a ranger. Got kicked off the force for shouting at the Fucking Tourists one too many times.” Peter found that endlessly amusing, and was also honored that Juno had not yet yelled at him, a Tourist. Juno yelling at tourists, that of course he could imagine; this was something he hadn’t guessed however. A ranger? He had to know something about the things in the woods; a ranger was the first person you’d think of who would know everything about the forest. So why, then, would he not admit to the monsters’ existences? “If you’re wondering why I won’t admit to seeing the weird stuff, don’t ask. Not yet, at least. Come on. Let’s put all this stuff in your car and I’ll show you around town.”

The men drove by the garage. Hyperion was a small town; folks walked to get around town most of the time, except when the hunting or fishing seasons opened. As it was, Fog never had much to do save hot rod the car they and Skyler shared and sometimes do repairs for Juno. Except, of course, when the Fucking Tourists showed up; in which case Fog charged exorbitant fees; they had a right to, especially when all the tourists did was complain about the dirt roads, the rain, the bugs, and any other thing that happened in nature. Everyone in town scammed the tourists. Fog and Skyler were sitting in their lawn chairs and shooting the breeze, Fog strumming their banjo and Skyler telling them about some nice jewelry ne’d come into the other day when Juno rolled up.

“Well how now!” exclaimed Fog. Skyler took the banjo and rested it in neir lap. “If it ain’t our own Mister Steel and his beau! Come to get the car?”

“He’s not my BEAU OH MY GOD FOG and yeah, did you break it?”

“Mister Steel, if you c’n turn it on and it goes front and back it ain’t broke. But no, I did not. Mister Nureyev, hope you don’t mind, but I souped it up a bit; fine-tuned the steering, it turns on a dime now.” Peter looked a little bit doubtful.

“Don’t you worry your pretty self none, Mister Nureyev. Fog here’s the best mechanic in town,” assured Skyler. Juno snorted.

“Don’t get a big head, there’s not exactly a lot of competition,” retorted the detective. Fog blinked at him.

“I beg your pardon,” they said, affronted. Skyler laughed; it was true, but ne still thought Fog was good at their job. Possibly because Fog fixed the car for free. Skyler didn’t know the first thing about cars, so if ne saw Fog holding a wrench and covered in oil, ne assumed they were doing a great job.

Once Peter had put all his things in his trunk save the shoes (“might wanna switch boots now, get used to ‘em while yer at it”), Juno took him through the town of Hyperion. The day was just fine; the sky was blue and scudded with clouds, it was just humid enough to be comfortable, and the wind, a fickle friend to all, played with their hair. Peter, elated after days of grey skies, took Juno’s arm, and did not notice. Juno flushed, looked, and was content to let it be. They went down the main street, arm in arm, Juno pointing out the sights.

“There’s where they print the local paper. ’Within The Wire’ it’s called. Editor-in-chief’s Sasha Wire.”

“Is that why she got the position?”

"You know what, probably. We have a little bookstore called ‘Mysterious Mose’s Bits and Books’. Old Man Mose runs it. It doubles as a pharmacy and sells, y’know, good-luck charms and stuff. Gris-gris, he calls ‘em.” Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Is Mister Mose from Louisiana?”

“Dunno, I never asked. Listen, here’s a tip: you want gossip, go to the garage. It’s closer than the diner. We got a marshall’s office somewhere, dunno where it is tho. Marshall’s name is Sparks Nevada. He’s a good guy. That place that’s closed right now is Valles Vicky’s Vixen Valley. It’s a club on weekends, bar on sports game nights, and liquor store every other day. The general store, you been there. Miss Ida the tailor. Her wife makes furniture in the back. Post office, doubles as a soda fountain.”

“Tell me, detective, is there anywhere that doesn’t double as something else?”

“Sure. The diner, the motel, and my office.”

“I’ve seen everything in that list except your office. Can we go?”

“No. Nothing to see in there, plus it’s on the other side of town.”

“Please?”

“Alright, fine.”

The fact of the matter was that the town was as quiet as it was small; not only was there nothing to do, but everyone knew everyone else and their business. It seemed as if all the inhabitants of Hyperion were outside on their stoops or in a lawn chair today, taking advantage of the fine weather and hollering to Juno.

“Hey is that the newcomer? Hey there Mister Mystery!! Wow, he really is handsome!”

“Whooo-whee! Juno Steel done landed yerself some fine vintage recently huh?”

“Well howdy-doo Mister Newcomer! Been here not eight hours and you’ve already gone an’ roped yourself the finest face in town!”

Most memorable was the comment hollered by the mailman, who spent the rest of his hours fishing: "AW YEAH GIT IT JUNO NICE KETCH!!” Peter burst out laughing and Juno tucked his head in his trench coat. It was a nice laugh. People went by the garage all day just to gossip with the radio host about the newcomer and drink lemonade. Fog was going to have superb material for the evening show.

Juno’s office eventually graced their sight. It wasn’t very much: a standard detective’s office with the board, the yarn and the pins, paperwork, the usual. But as Juno went to make coffee, something caught Peter’s eye. A case file labeled “Subject: Washington Devil”. He opened it. “Old Man Mose saw something ‘bipedal and immense’ out in the woods. Sam from the hills reported seeing 2 pronged footprints, about a foot long and a week old while out hunting. Signs point to Washington-type Jersey Devil in the woods. Should go back into hibernation in the next week when the rains come around. Extreme Caution Recommended.” There was another sheet in the file, but dated three years hence. “Subject: Cassandra Kanagawa. Reported missing a day after the Washington Devil was sighted. Her mother said she “was just dead set on proving it exists.” Kanagawa’s bones were found in the woods next to the supposed nest of the monster. Cause of Death: Washington Devil. Case: Closed.” Peter started when Juno walked back in. When Juno saw what Peter was reading, he gave him his coffee and sighed.

“See, that’s why I try to make folks think they don’t exist. Can’t go looking for something that ain’t there. Most folks in town, they know to keep away from the deeper part of the woods. Cassie and her folks, they’d just moved here. Some scandal back home or somethin’. Cassie, she was only eighteen. ‘Bout as old as Fog is now. Would do everyone a favor if that thing didn’t exist.” The detective’s eyes had gone hard, and he put his cup down. “Listen, Nureyev, don’t go looking for monsters. I- I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you on my watch.” He looked up. Peter’s eyes glimmered, and the man smiled sadly.

“Oh, detective, but I must. The thrill of the hunt, the promise of excitement; to chase it is a duty I am bound to it in a way much greater than I am bound to myself. I have a debt to repay, Juno, I can’t not fulfill it.”

“Then at least… let me come with you. Maybe you’ll live to hunt another day if I’m there. The animals, they know me, so please don’t… you don’t have to leave alone.” Juno looked up, desperation writ clear in his eyes. It would kill him if Peter died, he knew it: in the span of eighteen hours, his fate had been woven with the mysterious stranger’s from who knew where. Peter leaned in, grinned, and kissed the detective. It was a promise, for what, he did not know. Juno closed his eyes and sighed. He’d been wondering what this mysterious man tasted like all day. Peter broke away first, his eyes shining.

“Oh, Juno, I’d be delighted to have you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe my entire life to Fannie Flagg and her story "Standing in the Rainbow" and that's it! Nobody else! And also Mysterious Mose and Qwerpline. Also, an objective observation of how I deal with pretty people in my life.


	4. Chapter 4

Peter had roped Juno into going cryptid hunting for the Washington Devil with all intents and purposes to kill it; every time it surfaced, someone went missing, and Juno had had Enough of It. Their first stop was to the garage. One, Juno’s car wasn’t built for all-terrain travel, and two, someone had to know if they died.

It was about one in the afternoon, and the young folks were having lunch outside. At the approach of the Pontiac, Fog went to get more lawn chairs and Skyler waved at the men to join them and went inside for more sandwiches (roast beef on rye and tuna fish with dill). It was an even bigger picture then than at breakfast. A hard-boiled detective, a svelte stranger with a lovely smile, a well-dressed 50’s era antique shop owner and Fog Burns, who carried the mustard bottle in the front pocket of their overalls.

Lunch was a short affair. After the plates had been put in the sink to soak, Peter heaved himself up out of his chair and announced his plans of the day to his hosts “Welp! Time to kill the devil!” and headed for the car. The kids sat for a bit, looked at each other, hollered “WAIT!! PETER HANG ON” and shot into their respective shops for weapons. Between the two of them, they’d come up with two hunting rifles, seven bowie knives, two sets of walkie-talkies and a hand mortar with ammunition.

“Be careful with that,” said Skyler. “It’s an antique. Juno, call us if something goes wrong.”

“Then you’re gonna get a call in about ten minutes.”

“JUNO.”

“Alright, fine, whatever.” Fog and Skyler did not try to dissuade him; Juno had been meaning to go after the Devil for a while now, since Cassie had died. He’d never yet had the resolve, until this mysterious stranger from out of town dropped into his life.

Juno drove Peter’s car out of town and into Hyperion Forest. The silence was deafening. He broke it.

“Nureyev, whatever happens to me, you have to live. You have to get out of the woods and get to the kids, no matter what.” Peter did not look away from the window.

“Well that doesn’t matter, detective. We’re going to get out of this forest intact and in time for dinner, together. And I do hope you’ll let me make good on my offer from this morning, Juno.”

“Hm.” Juno’s hands tightened around the wheel. He figured that this wasn’t the first time Peter had gone monster hunting; nobody just hears that the devil is in the woods and decides to he’s going to kill it. Heck, not even Juno did. And he’d seen what the monster could do.

He parked the car at the edge of the woods, and they walked in the general reported direction of the Devil’s nest. They had no plan other than shoot, run, and kill so it was up to the gods today. The pine crunched under them, the canopy of trees making the world an empty eggshell. A shiver traveled up Peter’s spine, but Juno’s rifle was locked and loaded and he himself had a knife in literally every pocket. They had gone a hundred meters in the woods when the eggshell of their world cracked.

Have you ever heard the opposite of a roar? It is dull heave that travels through the ground and sends the undiluted essence of terror up your bones. That is the sound the Washington Devil makes. It shuffled out its nest and stood. Thin thin thin like chicken skin stretched over immense sewing needles, pronged feet like thorns, a gaping chest cavity surrounded with rotted flesh and a cow skull head with No Eyes. The Washington Devil looked, saw, and began shambling towards them.

Juno was frozen. Oh poor, poor, Cassie, that this was the last thing she saw. Juno could not stand the thought. On reflex, he aimed and fired, right through the monster’s eye. A masterful crack resounded as the bullet went through the beast’s skull and still it kept moving. He couldn’t move. Peter did the only thing that occurred to him; he grabbed Juno by the nape of his coat, veered left, and started covering ground.

Juno took back his senses and the lead; these were his woods, and he knew them like the back of his hand. There was a tree above hollow ground somewhere, he had to find it. And he did. Peter thought the monster had gotten him when he was shoved face first into the dirt at the bottom of a hollow tree, but Juno’s fevered cussing reassured him.

"oooOH HELL this just is Not Ideal this is actually maybe really bad.”

“I am inclined to agree, detective, but now we really do need a plan. We don’t have long, this thing probably has a very good sense of smell, no brain that we can speak of and absurdly long limbs."

“Eh, I’d say they’re about as long as yours.”

“Juno.”

“Alright, alright. S’far as I know, we’d have to burn it or something to kill it completely or cut its legs off and impair it somehow. That gaping hole in its middle... I don’t think it’s got vital organs.”

“No? Well that complicates things considerably, but I’ve been in tighter spots. Now here’s the plan…” Just as he and Juno were arguing over a point in the plan, the ground rattled beneath them. It was time to move again.

\-------------------

On the other side of the woods is a dirt clearing where tourists park their jeeps to go hike. It is deserted in the off-season. The Washington Devil had shambled after them all this time, bones clicking and clattering, held together by old skin, certain it’d be able to get them. It was the Washington Devil, the Scourge of Hyperion. No one had ever lived to describe it. It followed the scent, coming upon the clearing. Strange. It’d followed that odd spicy scent, but no one was there. It raised its head, sniffed, and spun it around. Ah. There was one. Small. Scratched. Where was the other? Was there not two? It sniffed again. This one had double the spicy smell it’d been following. Hm. No matter. The other one would be found eventually.

The little man raised his rifle. The beast didn’t move. He cocked it, and was slammed to the ground; the beast had cleared the space between them in a heartbeat and had him pinned. It opened its jaw wide as a thylacine’s. Three years it hadn’t eaten. The man closed his eyes and turned his head.

A series of things happened: a shower of some clear and disgusting-smelling liquid doused the monster and its prey and suddenly a pylon of fire erupted in the center of the clearing. The Devil screeched and writhed on the ground grotesquely, folding in ways a spine should not, trying to extinguish the fire. It rolled, trying to stand and run but it could not; it kept falling over. It’s Achilles tendons had been severed. The Washington Devil, Scourge of Hyperion, fell, an obscene ball of fire and melting flesh.

Juno shoved himself out from underneath the devil as soon as he felt the first drops of gasoline on him to avoid being caught in the blaze. He backed away from the monster and looked wildly for Peter. Peter was a ways behind the monster in his shirtsleeves, having given his coat to Juno, holding a dripping canister of gasoline and a bloody bowie knife. Juno met his eyes, full of fire and fury and… fear? There wasn’t any time. Juno grabbed the hand mortar from the back of his belt, shouted at Peter to get clear, and shot point blank at the roiling, stinking mass of screaming flesh.

On the other side of town, patrons at the diner raised their heads at the sound of an explosion. Back in town, the antique store and garage were deserted.

The clearing was a wreck. A crater now existed in the center of it and the surrounding trees had caught on fire. The air stank of rotting and burning flesh. Two bodies lay prone at the very edge of the clearing. A shorter figure lay on top of a longer one, both covered in soot, blood, and bruises from having been thrown clear across a parking space meant for jeeps. Juno and Peter raised their heads. They couldn’t believe it; had they really killed a monster that had been terrorizing the county for the past five decades and lived? They were both alive?

The questions crossed their minds briefly, and in moments, they were kissing, desperate, hands grabbing at collars and fisting in shirts. What if one of them had died? What if he hadn’t been brave enough, not fast enough? They’d cut it much too close. But they’d lived, and Peter would be able to take Juno to dinner and Juno would be able to ask Peter to stay with him while he was in town, you know, to save money. They broke the kiss and breathed, leaning their foreheads together, grimy, bloody and bruised but alive! Alive.

The sound of a jeep screeching into the clearing at high speeds made their heads whip round. Three people jumped out: Rita, Fog Burns, and Skyler Stone. Fog yanked a hose out of the back of the jeep attached to an industrial barrel of water and went to work dousing the trees and that weird fleshy mess that was on fire. Skyler parked the car and pulled out a first aid kit. Rita, for her part, threw herself at Juno and started bawling.

“OH MISTA STEEL WHEN WE'S HEARD THE EXPLOSION DOWN AT THE DINER AND I GOT THAT CALL FROM FOGGY SAYIN TO SUIT UP THERE WAS AN EMERGENCY I THOUGHT YOU'D DIIIEEED I GOT SO WORRIED MISTA STEEL MY MAKEUP'S RUINED AND I HADTA GET FRANNY TO COVER MY SHIFT AND-” Rita dissolved into sobs, and Juno patted her on the back.

“S’fine Rita, it’s all fine, I lived, see? Juno Steel, in the flesh, burnt though it may be.” Skyler got on neir knees in front of him and made a face.

“Geez, y’all took some fine shiners there. Mind telling us what happened in the thunderdome?” ne inquired, all the while dabbing Peter and Juno with iodine and telling them to hold still. Ne was doing a good job, until Fog screamed.

“SKYLER STONE THESE'N FELLAS DONE KILLED THE DEVIL HISSELF, AND THERE AIN'T NOTHIN’ LEFT BUT A GREASE STAIN,” they hollered.

“Oh yeah?” said Skyler, quite impressed. “Good job boys. You can keep the hand mortar, it’s on me.

Once Skyler had provided as much first aid as ne could, the three who had arrived in the jeep drove the men over to where Juno had parked his car. On the way, Peter and Juno recalled the tale of how they had fucked up the Scourge of Hyperion.

“So the plan was basically for me to distract it-”

“I was going to distract it, Juno.”

“Yeah well it showed up before we settled that particular detail, so I distracted it and Nureyev set it on fire.”

“How’d ya get it to follow you and not Peter?” asked Fog, leaning over the passenger seat.

“Well, y’know how this man wears expensive cologne like it’s skin? The stuff was all over his coat. So I wore it hoping the smell’d be strong enough to overpower anything else and let the fucker follow me to the clearing. Showed up, the overconfident bastard. Jumped me before I could do anything though.”

“The plan was for me to cover it in gasoline and light it up while it was distracted but! That plan fell through, so I had to soak both the Juno and the devil, cut its tendons, and hope for the best.”

“Is that why my car now reeks of gas,” asked Skyler. Juno pretended not to notice.

“It worked out pretty good in the end!”

“Pretty good? Juno, you could have died!”

“Aw well I lived, didn’t I? We all did. And once I got clear of the fire, I bombed it for good measure.”

“Whaddaya mean bombed it Mista Steel? How? Bombs are illegal this far up north ya know.”

“Eh, Skyler gave me a grenade launcher, so I bombed it.”

“I did do that, yep,” conceded the aforementioned Skyler. Peter was not so flippant about the grenade launcher.

“We could have both died in that explosion Juno.”

“Aw get off it Nureyev, we didn’t and we’re fine!”

“Don’t risk your life like that again Juno. I don’t think I’d be able to bear it.” Peter looked at Juno straight on - he meant it seriously. Juno looked away.

“Well, for you, Nureyev,” he mumbled. By that point, they had arrived at Peter’s car and let the men get back to town on their own. It was about five in the evening.

“If you can see straight,” pronounced Skyler, “you can drive. Now get to it.”

Peter drove the way back to town in complete silence, each lost in their own thought. A monster had been killed, and Juno had finally gotten absolution for Cassie. He was tired, and absentmindedly sniffed Peter’s jacket that was too big on him. Peter cooed on the inside at the picture.

Fog had reopened the garage and Peter parked his car before walking the short distance to the motel. Juno stopped him on the step and went for it before he lost the resolve; he was riding the momentum of killing the beast and was a little bit high on adrenaline. He grabbed Peter by the collar, kissed him quickly, and made his request.

“Listen, do you wanna live with me? I mean, until you have to leave town ‘cuz it’s cheaper than living in the motel and I can sleep on the couch but if you don’t want to I get it I mean-” Peter shushed him with another kiss and smiled at Juno’s blushing face.

“After everything that’s just happened, I don’t think I wish to be alone right now. I’d be delighted to live with you Juno Steel. Let me get my things and I’ll be right with you.” Peter kissed him again (oh how wonderful it was to be able to kiss him when he wanted!) and left for his room. Juno, dazed, put his back against the wall of the Penumbra. In a moment, he realized, and began blushing with the same fervor some people pray with when they need to win a bet. Peter, in his room, was packing and grinning with vigor. This was officially the Best Day Of His Life.

After Peter had made the short trip to Juno’s apartment (which was above his office and in front of the garage, meaning free parking and gossiping neighbors in one), their first order of business was to shower. Juno went first at Peter’s insistence, so Peter could bask in the world of Juno for a little while. Once they were both clean and freshly bandaged on Juno’s couch, Peter decided to make good on his promise.

“I did say I would take you out to dinner, detective. Where would you like to go?” he inquired. Juno considered it; there was nothing in the fridge, and it would be impolite to refuse.

“I know just the place. The only place in town, actually.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend Alice laughed at something in this bit in the "first" draft in the middle of class so I died of embarrassment and worried and fixed it. And I did some ancient firearm research too.


	5. Chapter 5

Sequoyah’s Steak and Seafood was, it had to be said, the only proper restaurant in town.

“It says steak and seafood but. Anything you want, they can probably make it happen,” said Juno, having driven them there. “Me and Rita tested that theory out once with a hot beef sundae.” Peter had the grace to look mildly disgusted.

“I’m not sure I want to know what that is, detective.”

“Let’s just say we ended up taking it to go and feeding it to Sam of the Hills’ dogs. Evenin' Mary Anne, what’s up?” A curly chestnut-haired woman working reception smiled at the both of them.

“Why Mister Steel! How you been? Haven’t seen you around since that hot beef sundae!”

“Never gonna doubt you or Chance ever again Mary Anne. Table for two?” Mary Anne laughed.

“Right this way!” Mary Anne Sequoyah knew _exactly_ what was going on; she listened to the radio after all. She flew to the kitchen and stuck her head in to announce the news to her wife. “The detective is here with that newcomer Fog was talking about!” she hissed. Chance turned around, surprised and happy.

“That so! Well, let’s make their evening special then Mary Anne.”

Being who and where they were, Peter got green curry and Juno, at Peter’s insistence (“Don’t you worry Juno, a potato’s not going to set me back any significant amount”), got a baked potato with everything on it. They had just asked for water, but a pretty good vintage had ended up on the table left in the wake of an “On the house!” from Mary Anne. Only a fool or a teetotaler would pass that up, and neither of them were either.

Dinner had gone over fantastically; Peter told Juno stories of other towns he’d been to (“None have ever been as friendly as this one of course.” “If you tell Fog that, it’ll get you favors from everyone in town, they’ll make sure of it.”), and dessert had come on the house as well (blackberry fool and tiramisu; they’d shared). The bill came down substantially lower than what Peter had expected.

“I suppose Fog had a hand in this, Mary Anne?” The woman snickered.

“Oh pff, if anything it’s Mister Steel! We’d do anything to make him and his date happy! And don’t worry about the price, we make up for it by scamming the Fucking Tourists.” Juno blushed and Peter laughed; everyone, it seemed, loved Juno Steel.

Mary Anne fled back to the kitchen as Peter paid the bill.

“How’d it go?” asked Chance.

“FANTASTICALLY.”

“Great!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's them! Chance and Mary Anne! Creators of anything Culinary. I did a whole lotta research on the Food Network trying to figure out what people usually eat for dessert I tell you what.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun set and the twilight rose. Fog Burns and Skyler Stone sat outside eating a dinner of spiced meatloaf and ginger ale, taking advantage of the cool evenings and celebrating. A banjo sat propped against Fog’s chair and Skyler’s trumpet lay nose down beside it. The two watched as the men went up to Juno’s apartment. Skyler sighed and Fog laughed; both would be up all night, no sleep lay on the table.

“Coffee?” asked Juno when they had gone inside. Peter hummed in agreement and went to open the window, because damn was it nice outside. A cool breeze ruffled his hair, the weather perfect. Peter sat at the table by the window and shut his eyes. The soft strains of “1842” on a banjo floated through the window.

Juno put the coffee down and sat across from Peter. His heart stopped then and there. The moon had risen and illuminated Peter’s face, bathing him in its light. A gift of the moon, his smile was a crescent, eyes shining as if they had swallowed the stars. The man before him took a deep, shuddering breath, and shut his eyes. Juno Steel fell completely, deeply, and irrevocably, in love.

“Peter?”

“Hm?”

“I think I might’ve fallen in love with you.”

“Well then, I suppose that makes two of us ,Juno.”

“Oh.” Juno let out a breath he had been holding for the better part of a minute. “Amazing the things almost dying at the hands of the devil can do for a relationship huh?” Peter laughed and leaned across the table.

“Oh, Juno.”

Their lips met, long hands cupping a scarred face, eyelids shut over skies full of stars.

Later, in the earliest hours of the new day, Juno held safely and sleeping in his arms, Peter understood what Fog had said on that fateful midnight drive. Whether scars and stars held a person’s fate or future depended on them; Peter’s past lay in the night sky, and he decided that his future would be held in the scars of his love.

“Does this mean I’m your beau now, Juno?” he asked a little later, lounging on Juno’s couch in his shirt.

“Huh? Oh, yeah I guess.”

“Marvelous!”

“Means I’m never gonna get any peace from the town no more though. Buncha busybodies.”

“I think it’s charming!”

“You would, city boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I worried myself to death writing this bit and it turns out it's less than a page long! Truly the world moves.


	7. Chapter 7

 "Gooood morning Hyperion, Washington! You’re listening to Hyperion Fog, 10.20 on the radio dial. Begging your pardon for all the yawning on the show today, but events last night kept me and Skyler up until maybe four in the morning. Anyone who lives within a mile radius of the garage will know exactly what I am talking about without me having to say so.

So! On to important news. Thanks to the efforts of our Very Own Juno Steel and our Mister Newcomer, who's name is Peter Nureyev dear listeners, the Washington Devil has been killed and defeated. It was set on fire yesterday about three pm, and will no longer be bothering us. My deepest regards to the families afflicted by the monster, I hope your hearts rest easy and that this knowledge brings you some closure.

In gladder news, it seems our Mister Mystery is staying in town for a while longer! He'll be living with our dearest and only detective, so if you want to send him casseroles and such, you know the address! Welcome to Hyperion, Mister Nureyev! We are so very glad to have you and wish you great joy for the foreseeable future.

Let’s see, what else. All establishments serving alcohol are having Happy Hour all day today to celebrate the downing of the devil, but may I remind you all that the police station is only a few miles from here and we don't want to give them the satisfaction of arresting any of us for public intoxication. Mose is offering half price on aspirin and all restaurants as well of the garage and general store will be providing free water bottles all day. Not much else to say my dear listeners!

All's well in the world today, and it looks like the good weather will be holding out for a little longer. Stay tuned for an hour of folk tunes selected by yours truly, or come by the garage for some live banjo and trumpet music. This is Fog Burns, wishing you all fair winds and following seas!"  
 

**Author's Note:**

> Hyperion, Washington is a self-indulgent, self-insert AU between me and my bud mysterysolver on tumblr. It started with an epiphany on my end on a gray February day, and shot up to a 24 page fic (also on my end), 2 playlists and a blog (hyperionwa on neir end). Also, this is my very first piece of published fiction! I did my best, please and thank you.


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